Crop Top
by elanev91
Summary: James can't find his favourite jumper, they're running late, and Lily tells him to just put on anything.


**Inspired by a Tumblr post I'm sure FF won't let me link to.**

 **For ginevrafangirl29, mariettew, wondurr-one, and hogwartisism on Tumblr who encouraged me to lean into the fact that Jily nonsense is my favourite kind of nonsense (and my favourite kind of Jily for that matter). Enjoy friends x**

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'James! We're going to be late, come on!'

'I'll be down in a sec, Evans, chill!'

Lily closed her eyes, took a deep, steadying breath, tried her best to suppress the anger bubbling in her stomach. As much as she wanted to start shouting at him for telling her to _chill,_ they were already late and she really didn't think that adding a shouting match was going to help them get to the park on time. Remus had told them it didn't matter if they ran a few minutes late (they were always running a few minutes late, especially now that Harry was able to move around on his own and he found it increasingly hilarious to either destroy something at the last minute _or_ to hide in the little alcove underneath the stairs with the cat so that she and James couldn't find him and they were both crying and Lily was running around with her mobile in her hand screaming 'James, let's just call 999 already, he could be anywhere!'), but they were unveiling the sculpture Sirius had been working on for months, and Lily was not about to let her and James be late to this damn thing because no matter _what_ Remus said, Lily knew that Sirius would hold it over them (mostly jokingly) for the rest of their natural lives if they missed what was sure to be some kind of spectacular entrance.

Lily shifted Harry over onto her other hip, took another long drag of her still too-hot tea (breathing out hard against the fire now burning in her throat), and grabbed the rest of their breakfast dishes from the table and started piling them in the sink. James always made fun of her for refusing to leave the house with a mess in the sink, but James was upstairs trying to dress himself (how she ended up with _two_ children, Lily never knew) and he probably wouldn't have time to make fun of her before she grabbed him by the collar and dragged him out to the car.

Harry reached up and started playing with the ends of her hair while she tidied up, a habit he'd picked up from James and engaged in whenever he was seated on Lily's hip and she was otherwise occupied. She turned to look at Harry, smiled at him, and pressed a kiss to the side of his head, before she turned the tap on with her free hand and started rinsing dishes for the dishwasher.

'Lil,' Lily jumped and almost fumbled the plate she was washing when James shouted down the stairs, 'Have you seen my red jumper?!'

'Oh for gods sake,' Lily grumbled. She set the plate into the sink, grabbed her mug, and took another drink of her tea before she yelled back, 'I don't know, James, where did you put it?'

She could hear James opening up drawers in their bedroom, three loud slams in a row telling her that he'd checked the entire chest of drawers where he was _supposed_ to keep his bloody jumpers and, apparently, come up empty. He was quiet for a minute and she rolled her eyes, imagining him walking in slow, confused circles around their bedroom, muttering under his breath about all the places he'd checked and all the ones he still had yet to look.

She'd just dropped the sponge into of the washing-up bowl when James yelled, 'I can't find it,' and nearly scared the shit out of her again. Lily swore under her breath before she could stop herself (they'd tried to make more of an effort after Harry yelled something that sounded distinctly like 'fuck' when he dropped one of his toys the other day, though they were far from consistent with it. It also didn't help that neither of them could stop laughing after Harry had said it, and James had since been suggesting that they just 'go with it, as long as he's using the words correctly').

'Did you _look_ ,' she shouted back, not even bothering to keep the annoyance out of her voice now. She shut the dishwasher, grabbed their cleaning spray from underneath the sink to wipe the counters down.

'I've looked everywhere,' James said, and she could tell from the change in his voice that he'd moved to the top of the stairs, 'Are you sure you don't know where it is?'

Lily sighed in annoyance, tried to inject as much sarcasm into her reply as was humanly possible. 'Let me think back to the last time I wore your red jumper, see if I can remember where I put it.'

James snorted before Lily heard him walk back into their room, 'Please, Evans, you wear my clothes all the time.'

Lily rolled her eyes, shook her head, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips now. Her affinity for James' clothing was something they'd "fought" about for years, James always insisting that Lily wore his clothes more often than her own and Lily arguing that James always liked it anyway, so he could just shut up with his complaining.

'I do not!'

James laughed so loudly she could hear him clearly from the kitchen, 'Yes you bloody well do!'

Harry started wiggling in Lily's arms before she could reply, and she set him down on the floor, crossing her fingers that she wouldn't regret the decision to let him loose in a few minutes when they were due to be walking out the door. Harry immediately toddled into the sitting room to go roll on the floor next to the cat, and Lily decided that, for the moment, it was probably going to be alright.

She walked through the kitchen, into the front hall, and over to the bottom of the stairs. 'Regardless,' she said, both of her hands on her hips now that they were baby-free, 'I know you washed and folded that jumper. If you would just put them away – '

James came back out of their bedroom, mimicked her posture from the top of the stairs, 'I _did_ fold it, love, but I think _someone_ wore it when we were watching that movie the other night because they were cold and _someone_ didn't put it back.'

Lily bit her lip, sucked in a sharp breath to try and steady herself before she went storming upstairs to tell James just where in the bloody fuck he could put his precious jumper (they really, _really_ didn't have time for this). She threw her hands up, 'I put it back! I _always_ put your damn clothes back, James, just because you're a human tornado doesn't mean that you – '

'Nooo,' James said, shaking his head at her, amused smile on his face, 'don't try and put this on me. Remember last time when my uni sweatshirt was lost? Now, where did we find that again?'

The bottom of her wardrobe.

Lily barely resisted stomping her foot at him, 'Don't you talk to me like that, James Potter!'

James laughed, the rich, rumbling laugh he had every time that he knew he was besting her in an argument. Lily did what she always did whenever James was winning – she scoffed. 'Whatever, James, just – just fucking put something on, I don't care what, wear _my_ bloody jumper if you're going to be so ridiculous about it, just GET DRESSED so that we can leave because I really don't feel like listening to Sirius complain about how we were late to his reveal forever.'

James didn't reply, just sent her one last amused smile before he turned on his heel and went back into their bedroom. Lily sighed (aggressively), and walked back into the kitchen to grab her tea before heading into the lounge, where Harry was (mercifully) still playing with the cat.

After a few minutes of quiet upstairs, she heard James' quick steps on the stairs, and she hoped to _god_ that he was going to be ready to go, because, she glanced over at the clock on the wall, it was already quarter past and they absolutely had to leave no later than twenty after if they had any hope of getting there on time.

Lily took one last, long gulp of her tea (now, _finally_ , a drinkable temperature) just as James walked into the lounge and she choked (dribbling a bit of tea onto her shirt in the process).

James was standing there, broad smile on his face, in a red jumper and trousers, but it wasn't _his_ bloody red jumper that he was wearing. It was _hers._

Part of her wanted to kill him for forcing his stupidly broad shoulders into her favourite jumper (an ill-advised favourite according to Marlene, because the jumper clashed horribly with her hair) and stretching it out, another part wanted to kill him for choosing now, _right bloody now,_ to engage in these shenanigans when he _knew_ that they were already going to be late, but she was laughing before any of her more violent impulses had time to work their way to the surface, and by then it was too late. James already knew that he'd won.

He walked across the room, plucked her mug out of her hand, and took a long drag, leaning back a bit and angling his chest so that the jumper slid a few more inches up his stomach. Her eyes traced the firm planes of his stomach, and crop tops weren't really her thing, but James' muscles sure as hell were, and it took her a moment before she remembered that she was very, very irritated with him and that he looked very, _very_ stupid wearing her shirt.

She bit her lip to try and hide her smile as James handed her back her mug, but he sent her a knowing wink, and she knew the game was up.

'What the f – heck,' she just barely caught herself and James' smile widened, 'are you wearing?'

'What,' James asked, stretching his arms overhead now so the hem of her jumper ran almost completely over his chest, 'you don't like it?'

She decided not to engage with his banter. It was only going to make them even later than they were already going to be (and their banter only ever ended one way and Harry was right there and she wasn't a _completely_ terrible parent, so James' cheek would have to wait).

She sighed, 'Can you _please_ just go get dressed so we can leave?'

'I'm ready.' His voice was completely even, but there was a challenge in his eyes, a "don't you want to see how far I'm willing to take this" look that reminded her forcefully of the James she'd first met in Year 7, the boy with the mad hair, annoyingly adorable glasses, and a legendary detention record, the boy who was willing to do anything just because you didn't think he would.

'Alright,' she stood up, crossed the room to pick Harry up off of the cat, raised an eyebrow at James when she turned back around, 'let's go then.'

She wanted him to look concerned, wanted him to look like he was backing down, but James just smiled at her, 'I'll grab Harry's bag?'

Lily nodded, 'It's on the kitchen table.'

James walked out of the lounge, shooting her a wink over his shoulder as he walked through the door, and Lily shook her head, chuckled under her breath. She shifted Harry from her hip so that she could hold him in her hands, lifted him up so that their faces were level. 'Your father,' she said, smiling at Harry, 'is completely mad. He's mad and I'm mad for loving him.'

Harry just smiled at her, made kissing noises, and Lily laughed, 'You are too like your father,' as she settled him back on her hip and went to fetch James.


End file.
